


What Destiny Demands

by WishMage



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Do not post to other sites, Do not repost, Emotional Trauma, Emotionally Open Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Falling In Love, Fluff, Found Family, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Kidnapping, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nilfgaard slave trade, Prompt Fic, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Slavery, Slow Burn, The Witcher Kink Meme, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), destiny don't play, happy Geralt, many meetings, mostly narrative, no beta we die like renfri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishMage/pseuds/WishMage
Summary: After Geralt meets the bard, they go their separate ways, only to meet up later that day, kidnapped by the same group of irate elves. He leaves soon after that only to be reunited shortly after. They meet up again and again and nothing Geralt tries stops him from running into the bard.One day, after being mortally wounded, dropped by a creature practically at the bard's feet, the bard suggests they give in and accept that the fates want them together, for whatever reason. Geralt, despite recognizing the bard is right, is determined to outrun any plans destiny might have for him, insists they go their separate ways.When he stumbled upon Jaskier again, in a position no one should ever be in, he regrets not accepting what destiny demanded sooner.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 17
Kudos: 348





	What Destiny Demands

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read, all mistakes are my own. This one is a little more arcing than most of what I write.
> 
> Prompt:  
> https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=630701#cmt630701  
>  _Jaskier doesn’t bother trying to convince Geralt to let him go with him in Posada, on recognizing who he is, he questions him to get material for a new song then goes on his merry way to his next chosen town... Where he bumps into Geralt. The pattern continues - every new town that Geralt visits, Jaskier either appears shortly afterward or is already there._
> 
> _How long will Geralt ignore Fate? Fate can do this all eternity y’know, she can wait!_
> 
> _The meetings and their conversations and actions get sillier with each interaction._

The first time he met the bard, Geralt gave no thought to it, other than passing surprise that the bard had no fear of him. He didn’t think too much more of it when, after parting in Posada, the bard ended up being captured not long after him and tied up behind him in the cave.    
  
Well, other than the bard seemed to have terrible luck to have ended up meeting the butcher of Blaviken  _ and _ being taken hostage by human-hating elves in one day. The response in elder speech surprised him too, as it was nearly flawless - too proper if anything.

They parted again when Geralt left the camp they’d built together after being freed before the sun had begun to light the sky. The fire had been stoked, another log placed on it to give the bard a few more hours warmth, as the cold would make his bruising ache all the more. Geralt also felt some gratitude for the bard laying off singing the night prior when Geralt claimed a headache. The bard had kept to soft strumming of his new lute that Geralt found eased the throbbing in his skull from the earlier beating.  
  
When a week later he found the bard singing in the center of a small town where he’d just dispatched a wraith that had taken a tavern, he scowled at the song about witchers and moved quickly on before the bard saw him. He had no intention to play grateful for the song he hadn’t wanted and didn’t like.  
  
That damned song stayed in his mind for _weeks_ after as he continued on the path, only to find the bard in the room he’d just unlocked in the first inn he’d decided was worth his coin in ages. They’d had a caller advertising hot in-room baths and Geralt hadn’t been able to resist the appeal. They stared at one another in surprise for a moment before the bard’s face shifted into an expression of joy.  
  
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again!” He sprang up from the table he’d been writing at and started toward Geralt, who stepped back and pulled the door shut behind him. With an exhaled sigh, he turned to go correct the mistake the innkeeper had clearly made, ignoring the opened door and footfalls behind him on the stairwell.  
  
Once apologies had been made and the key exchanged, for _every_ copy of the key to his own room, Geralt turned to go upstairs. The bright smile, rather than annoying him, made Geralt sigh and pause instead of stepping around the bard as he’d intended to do.  
  
“What, bard?” Geralt asked, knowing he wasn’t easily put off after only spending a few hours around him.  
  
“It’s Jaskier. Buy you dinner and ale for any stories you’ll share!” The bard returned happily.   
  
Geralt grunted, considered, and pressed for more, wanting to have an excuse to say no despite being tempted by the offer of free food. “A bath tomorrow too.” He added, having already paid for the hot water tonight.  
  
At Jaskier’s easy nod, Geralt wished he’d pressed for more even as he wondered what sort of fool the bard was. Geralt begged off first to soak in his bath and took his time, using Igni to rewarm the water a number of times until he was relaxed and the soreness had washed away. Wondering if the bard had given up waiting, Geralt took his time stretching and dressed slowly before leaving his room shuttered and locked.  
  
Jaskier was singing when he went down to speak to him. Shortly after he sat down to watch in a corner food and a tankard of ale was put before him, compliments of Master Jaskier. Geralt considered the bard as he took a drink of the ale, then frowned at it in surprise. He sniffed it. No poisons were detectable to even his nose. It was just _good_ ale. He knew some inns kept better stock, as he’d been offered it a time or two, usually after saving children. Those were the contracts he hated most, so he generally accepted, glad for the ale after.  
  
Halfway through his dinner, Jaskier sat down across from him with his own meal and ale and a wide, excited grin. Geralt huffed in amusement, more relaxed than usual from the long bath, warm hearty food, and good ale. Before even greeting Geralt, the bard stopped a barmaid to order Geralt another good ale.  
  
It was that good will that had Geralt opening up a bit to share a few things. The bard pushed him constantly for detail, but the delight he expressed at each one made Geralt a little more willing to share. He’d gone through a few more ales before he excused himself for the night.  
  
Jaskier was gone the next morning, but true to his word had paid in advance for Geralt to have another hot bath before he moved on.  
  
It was meeting the bard time and time again over the next seasons that Geralt started to suspect something. Had it not been just as often that Jaskier had, for some time, been in a village Geralt wandered into, he’d suspect the bard was _very_ good at following him without being noticed.  
  
That winter, as he journeyed back to Kaer Moren, he half expected to find the bard along the trail up the mountain. The damn coin song haunted him throughout the winter, coming into his mind at the strangest time. He’d even caught himself humming it as he bathed in the hot springs.   
  
Three weeks after he’d returned to the path, he began encountering Jaskier again. Even the bard seemed to _finally_ think it odd, by the fourth such incident that spring, the bard finally commented on it.   
  
Afterward, Geralt began to make concentrated efforts to be places he’d never imagine seeing the bard, to no avail. If anything they seemed to meet more often. Once Geralt had even found Jaskier stumbling through the woods lost not far from where the Witcher and Roach had settled for the evening.   
  
When they met at a small summer solstice festival in a tiny backwater town not large enough for an inn or alehouse after Geralt had been injured by a griffin, they ended up sharing a room in a young widower’s hut. Jaskier helped treat and dress his wounds over the next two days. Geralt found he liked the bard’s sense of humor.  
  
Upon leaving, they traveled together for a week before they parted. Jaskier headed to a music competition while Geralt chased rumors of a royal wyvern with a taste for humanoid flesh. They weren’t parted long. Geralt found the beast two towns away four nights after he’d left Jaskier. The witcher nearly died trying to take it down.  
  
Geralt woke in the air, clutched tightly beneath the royal wyvern. Poison was burning in his veins as his body witcher enhancements fought against it. He had wounds any human man would have died from. His sword was still clenched in a death grip, and as they neared the mountain range Geralt suspected it had a nest in, he put his it through the beast’s heart. He hadn’t been sure he’d live long enough to take out a nest, but he’d known he couldn’t let this one keep snatching people.  
  
As they tumbled from the air together, he heard screams as the ground grew closer. He got a sense of colors, tents everywhere. A festival, or market, he imagined as he and the royal wyvern crashed through thatching and wood and everything went suddenly dark.  
  
-+-  
  
Geralt was surprised when he began to come to. More surprised when a hand squeezed his.   
  
“Geralt?” It was Jaskier’s voice, but with a tone the witcher had never heard before. He was scared. Geralt’s eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, looking around for the danger. They were in an expansive, brightly colored tent, he was on a strangely comfortable cot and Jaskier was on a box beside the bed. There were ornate rugs making a floor and the lanterns around the room showed the fabric to be patterned. This looked to be a noble’s tent.  
  
“Hmm.” Geralt managed before Jaskier was trying to push him back down onto the cot.   
  
After resisting long enough that Jaskier realized he wasn’t going to move and gave up, the bard’s quiet “Please lay down, you’ve been badly injured.” was what had Geralt laying back on the cot. He told himself it was to feel out his own injuries, but knew it was because of how desperately worried his oft-met companion sounded.  
  
“Witchers heal quickly.” Geralt assured as Jaskier looked him over and slid his hands gently over bandages. Checking for new bleeding, Geralt realized.  
  
“Well, we all thought you were _dead_.” Jaskier said miserably. “You _looked_ dead. _I_ thought-” Jaskier cut himself off suddenly. Geralt looked at him and found him quickly dabbing away tears on the end of a silk sleeve. He took a breath and reached out to put his hand on Jaskier’s upper arm.  
  
“I’m not dead. How long have I been asleep?” Geralt asked as he stretched a bit, and groaned. He was sore just about everywhere, and the wounds he inflicted were a strange tingling sort of numb that meant an herbalist or healer had at him while he’d been under.  
  
“Four _days_.” Jaskier huffed miserably. “The competition ended, most everyone else has packed up and gone, so you won't have to worry about anyone but the healer coming to see you.” It surprised Geralt that the bard had already picked up on how Geralt generally disliked having to deal with people enough to offer that to ease his mind.  
  
Geralt hummed and Jaskier laughed wetly and reached out to take the witcher’s hand gently between his own. The relieved expression on the bard’s face made Geralt’s heart thump uncomfortably. For anyone other than Vesemir or his brothers being upset over him having been badly injured had been unfathomable before he met Jaskier.  
  
Three days passed while Geralt recuperated in the tent, eating well and attended twice daily by the royal healer who seemed stunned at his recovery. Roach showed up the second day he was awake, to Jaskier’s utter astonishment, and was stabled somewhere Jaskier assured him was better than they were both used to.  
  
Jaskier was apparently acquainted enough with the local nobility that no one seemed to think it odd that Geralt was being so well cared for. When Geralt announced he was ready to leave, the comfort was enough that he let the bard keep him another night before they set off, together once more for several days as they took the highway out until it splintered into roads.  
  
“Which way are you going?” Jaskier asked as they came to the small market that formed daily near the meeting of the royal highways with more provincial roads.  
  
Geralt considered for a moment and nodded to a path that would lead up toward the mountains, to less populated areas and more monsters. With a nod in goodbye to Jaskier, he turned Roach and began to make his way. He stopped when Jaskier began to follow them down the same path.  
  
“If this is the way you’re headed, I can take another path.” Geralt said and frowned at the way the bard’s face fell.  
  
“Geralt, why?” Jaskier asked, not sounding pained despite the look in his eyes. “Destiny obviously wants us to travel together. You haven’t been able to escape encountering me for trying. And I _know you tried_.” The bard sounded exasperated.  
  
Geralt exhaled and thought over his words carefully. “It’s not _you_.” He stated, considered another moment and continued. “It’s destiny. Destiny is cruel if anything. I don’t want anything to do with it. If you follow me, it’ll be to your doom, not some grand destiny. I’m not-” Geralt stared at him for a moment, then turned Roach and headed back through the crossroads, ignoring Jaskier’s squawk, and headed toward the south coast instead.  
  
“I’m safer _with_ you than I would be alone.” Jaskier’s voice argued from a few steps behind.   
  
Geralt stopped once more, turned around, and looked at him. “No. You won't be. Now _stop following me_.” He snarled, baring his teeth The only reaction it got from the bard was a frustrated sigh.  
  
“You’re so stubborn!” Jaskier tossed his hands up. “I feel as though I’ve seen you at least once a moon but for when I wintered for nearly two years now. This time you almost _died_ when the fates dropped you _into the building_ I was performing in along with that ugly dragon you slew.”  
  
”It was a royal wyvern.” Geralt corrected.  
  
“ _Whatever_ it was, it nearly _killed_ you delivering you to me. Why would you continue to thwart destiny just to escape me? I don’t want to see you hurt like that, ever again.”  
  
“You will!” Geralt snapped, “If it’s not you that’s hurt like that _first_. You won't _survive_ the path Jaskier. If you follow me I’ll just wait until you go to sleep and then slip away. Find another path.”  
  
Jaskier stared at him incredulously for a moment, then lifted his chin and straightened his spine. “Fine. I’ll see you soon enough, and then you’re going to _apologize_ and buy me an ale before we figure out where to go next.” He looked at Geralt intently enough that the witcher wondered if Jaskier was trying to sear his will upon him, and then turned and took the royal road northward.  
  
Geralt continued toward the coast before cutting back East after a contract. He took a string of contracts, slept in the forest, and kept to remote areas, telling himself it wasn’t just to test the fates or avoid his bard. _The_ bard. Jaskier wasn’t _his_.  
  
Nearly as soon as he thought that he heard a yell and stopped Roach. They were truly in the middle of nowhere, on a deer path in the wilds between Ebbing and Gemmera. There should be no one for days.   
  
The witcher left Roach to nibble on the underbrush and moved quietly forward, making out multiple voices before his nose started to pick up what he was headed toward. A donkey or two, many unwashed bodies, spices- _No_. That _couldn’t_ be right.  
  
Geralt stopped cold, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. Tears, sweat, blood, pain, piss, desperation, fear, metal, and _there_. His eyes opened as fury took him.  
  
 _Slavers_. And they had _Jaskier_. The humans didn’t hear the snarl he unleashed as he unsheathed steel sword, but he heard the donkeys bray in alarm. It didn’t matter that that alerted the slavers, as when Geralt reached the single-file line of chained people, he cut the Slavers driving them down easily and mercilessly.  
  
He’d rushed past Jaskier as he’d cut down a slaver who’d thought a hostage would save her without hurting the girl she’d grabbed. A quick search produced a key to the manacles, and he moved toward Jaskier. He barely noticed that the other captured people had taken the same initiative and were freeing themselves and one another as he stopped before Jaskier.  
  
Geralt unlocked the cuffs around his wrists and let them drop with the weight of the chain before shoving the key into the hands of the woman who’s been behind Jaskier in the line.  
  
“Geralt?” Jaskier finally asked, sounding concerningly dazed. Geralt nodded and took off his cloak to wrap around the shaking bard. Neither of them paid any attention to the people fleeing the way they’d come. They seemed as fearful of the witcher as they’d been of their slavers. In moments, they were alone amongst dead slavers and two donkeys that had been stripped of most of their packs by those fleeing. Geralt spotted Jaskier’s lute case and scowled even as he felt relieved.  
  
“Fuck.” Geralt said, and Jaskier laughed in a way that made Geralt suspect they didn’t have long before the bard broke down. They’d have to make camp, preferably away from the slavers trail. He reached up and gripped Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’m going to get the donkeys and we’ll go.”  
  
Geralt put a much-too-quiet Jaskier on the one with his lute and placed the lute case in his hands. “Here. It’s safe to play. I won’t let anything else happen to you.” He promised, meeting the bard’s too-wide eyes. Noticing he was pale, Geralt touched his neck to find his bard cold and clammy.   
  
“ _Fuck_.” He repeated quietly and kept his hand there a moment longer when Jaskier leaned into the touch. When his bard's trampling lessened slightly, Geralt led the donkeys back to Roach, turned her around, and headed up the first northward trail he found to make camp.  
  
Geralt was grateful when on the way he heard the bard begin to strum at the lute. He kept his senses alert, focused on Jaskier and the surroundings and putting the music out of mind. They stopped at the first decent campsite Geralt found that he considered far enough from the slave trail that they were unlikely to encounter anyone.   
  
Once he’d started a fire and gotten Jaskier situated on the bedroll with a blanket over his shoulders, Geralt took care of Roach and the donkeys. He then went through what was left attached to the donkey's saddles after the freed people had grabbed whatever had been taken from or would be useful to them. To his surprise, they’d missed a bag almost entirely filled with tied sacks of dried meats and fruits.  
  
There were two extra bedrolls, the blankets from one Geralt used to supplement the one Jaskier would have that night. He left the second on the saddle. There were a couple of cheap blades and one solid one. The witcher tossed the cheap ones into the woods like the garbage they were, unwilling to sell them to some poor villager who’d get themselves killed thinking they’d protect them from something. The donkeys and their saddles at very lest would be worth a decent amount of crowns, he considered as he packed nearly everything back into the packs.  
  
The sounds of strumming stopped, and Geralt rose from his crouch to move back over to Jaskier. He crouched again, in front of the bard and handed him a strip of dried meat and one of the bags of dried fruit.   
  
“Eat.” He instructed, and started to stand, then resumed his crouch when Jaskier’s hand shot out to grip his wrist in a white-knuckled grip with a look of terror on his face.  
  
“Don’t leave me again.” Jaskier gasped out harshly, and Geralt felt it like a knife to the heart as he remembered their last conversation. He moved his weight forward, shifting from a crouch to his knees, and then pulled Jaskier into his arms.  
  
If the fates saw fit to bring Jaskier to him in the middle of nowhere via slavers after nearly killing Geralt, he didn’t want to press their luck further.  
  
“Alright.” He agreed as Jaskier rested the side of his face against Geralt’s neck. The lute’s handle was poking into Geralt’s chest uncomfortably, but the bard was both trembling and clinging to him, so Geralt shifted to get as comfortable as he was able and held the bard as he shook apart and began to sob.  
  
When Jaskier sagged against him in exhaustion, Geralt guided him to lay down, took the lute from him, and assured him he wasn’t going anywhere when he got up to put the lute away. He repacked the untouched fruit, ate the meat strip in three bites, and spread out the base of the second bedroll beside Jaskier’s, between his bard and the forest. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, Geralt sat cross-legged on it, set a hand on Jaskier’s upper arm, and closed his eyes.  
  
Jaskier’s fingers closed over Geralt's hand and soon his breathing evened out. Geralt didn’t sleep that night, or the next, choosing to meditate. Jaskier was unusually quiet and watched Geralt as though he might vanish at any moment. The third day they came across a road leading to a small town, but after a brief discussion Geralt turned them back and they continued away from roads and civilization, as this far south encountering slavers was likely and Jaskier seemed strangely averse to the idea of other people.  
  
The fifth night their bedrolls were laid slightly overlapping so Jaskier could press against Geralt to relax enough to sleep soundly. They’d discovered he had trouble sleeping without Geralt touching him somehow. Geralt was on his back with an arm under Jaskier, who’d taken to pillowing his head on Geralt’s chest and shoulder when they took that position.  
  
“They told me I was too pretty to rape because it would lower my price.” Jaskier suddenly whispered. Geralt saw white for a moment, and only decades of training and the weight of _his_ bard kept him from getting up to destroy something as rage momentarily consumed him. He breathed through it, allowing himself to feel it, and it to pass.  
  
“Did they hurt you? Do anything else?” Geralt managed with only the slightest growl. Jaskier lifted his head and smiled at him, eyes shimmering. He drew a deep shuddering breath before he answered.  
  
“Not... so much. It was more the threat of it, and they _killed_ people, Geralt. Just, just like _that_. For... nothing. For fun, sometimes. And... they _did_ hurt others. Gods, I thought-” Jaskier’s next breath was sucked in suddenly, and another before he’d even exhaled and Geralt raised his free hand to rub Jaskier’s chest soothingly.   
  
“You’re safe with me. I won’t let anything happen to you. Breath in. Good, Release it. Good. Breath in.” Geralt continued to walk him through breathing, as Jaskier had enough of these fits in the past days that Geralt now knew what worked best to guide him through them.  
  
Soon enough, Jaskier had regained calm and was drowsing sleepily, but seemed determined to keep his eyes open. “Geralt?” He asked quietly, and it hung in the air when he didn’t immediately follow up with a question as he’d always done in the past.  
  
“Hmm?” Geralt returned, eyes on Jaskier’s face as he stroked his bard’s back soothingly.  
  
“I’m afraid that you’re going to dump me in the first city we come across and... I don’t want you to leave me. I want to stay with you. I’d rather face monsters than...” He trailed off and tilted his face upward to meet Geralt’s eyes, looking exhausted and afraid. “Don’t leave me. I can _learn_ to survive the path.”  
  
Geralt had trouble speaking for a moment and nodded. A moment later, with Jaskier still staring, he agreed aloud. “I won't. You can stay with me. We’ll head toward Kaer Moren and settle in early for winter.”  
  
Jaskier exhaled in shaky relief and went slack against Geralt, who hadn’t realized _how_ tense his poor bard had become. Geralt drew him a little more firmly against him and made sure the blanket was secure over Jaskier’s shoulders.   
  
“We’ll stay together from now on.” Geralt promised, and the fire flared strangely for a moment before it settled. Jaskier was asleep soon after and soothed by his even breathing, Geralt was asleep not long after.  
  
-+-  
  
Autumn fell upon them, colors growing richer as they moved north, and Jaskier seemed to brighten back to his former glory the farther north they went. Geralt found that he’d begun to freely return the smiles his bard threw his way. He liked the way it made Jaskier practically glow whenever Geralt had. They still slept against one another at night, and it was getting chilly enough that Geralt went out of their way to a few towns to hunt down contracts for extra coin.  
  
Some of the coin was set aside with what was left from the donkeys once Jaskier had begun to hint about plush beds and warm baths, something Geralt was admittedly fond of on occasion as well. Most of it was spent on clothes that would keep Jaskier warm and higher quality, thicker bedrolls, as well as a thick quilt that would cover them both. Finally, he invested in a good, sturdy pair of tall, rabbit fur-lined boots with several pairs of linings to help keep Jaskier’s feet dry and warmer than the ridiculous soft suede things his bard seemed to favor.  
  
When the bard went unusually silent when Geralt presented him with the things he’d invested in, Geralt thought him upset they hadn’t saved the coin for a week or two of cozy hotel stays, especially when he noticed the shine in his eyes. To his utter surprise, Jaskier had turned to him before the disappointment stirring in his chest could fully form and tossed his arms around him with a thick, choked “ _Thank_ you”.  
  
Geralt's arms came up around Jaskier without any conscious thought, one hand firmly between his shoulder blades and the back of Jaskier’s neck cupped in the other. The tone of his voice had been too close to the watery, choked out tone he’d had immediately after Geralt had found and rescued him, or whenever he’d woken from a nightmare about it since. It brought out every bit of Geralt’s protective nature.  
  
“It’s alright.” Geralt said even as he pressed Jaskier closer, the instinct to shelter him had momentarily overwhelmed any sense. “It’s just... some supplies.” Geralt turned his face slightly, pressing his nose into Jaskier’s hair to inhale. The lack of any hint of fear-smell coming from his bard soothed him, and he rubbed a circle in Jaskier’s back.  
  
“It’s more than that.” Jaskier said into his shoulder, and were Geralt’s hearing not so exceptional, he might not have picked it up. Geralt didn’t pry, and Jaskier didn’t elaborate, and soon enough the bard pulled away so they could continue northward.  
  
After that day, Jaskier seemed to regain more of the spark that had been slightly dimmed by his time with the slavers, and the music and teasing went from a few moments throughout the day, to whenever the bard wasn’t actively sleeping, relieving himself, composing or stuffing his face. Where once Geralt found the behavior grating, he was now so grateful to see his bard coming back to himself that he found himself engaging in the teasing more often than not. The first few times, Jaskier had seemed astonished, but each and every time Geralt engaged or returned a friendly jab, Jaskier did nothing to hide his delight.  
  
So their time passed as they traveled toward Kaer Moren. It was when Jaskier had talked him into going two weeks off their course for a music festival, only possible thanks to the good time they were making, that Geralt realized he was happy. When thinking back, he couldn’t remember any time where he’d been happy for such a sustained period, and before meeting Jaskier it had been a good decade since he’d indulged himself enough to feel it at all. Yet with the bard at his side, Geralt had felt a sustained sort of happiness for weeks now. The realization astonished him and was followed almost immediately by the full realization of his feelings for his bard.  
  
It wasn’t that Geralt hadn’t considered his feelings for his bard before. He’d noticed his own possessive thoughts, that he’d felt freer around the bard than he had with anyone other than his fellow wolf witchers and that Jaskier made him laugh. Love, however, somehow had never crossed his mind until it smacked him in the face that day as Jaskier ran over to him, glowing with excitement after a final set.  
  
Jaskier opened his mouth to say something and Geralt surprised them both when he stepped into his bard’s space, grabbed his upper arms, and kissed him silent.  
  
“Wow.” Jaskier gasped out when Geralt eased away, his eyes wide and surprised. A grin plastered itself across his face in the next moment and the happiness of the look he gave Geralt erased any worries Geralt might have felt before they had time to form.  
  
“I think, perhaps you were right all along.” Geralt said softly and kissed Jaskier briefly when the other made a questioning noise. “Perhaps it’s best to go along with what destiny demands.”  
  
-+-  
  
The winters at Kaer Moren thereafter became more than just a count of how few there were left of them. They became celebratory seasons, filled with music and laughter. Geralt’s brother’s teased him a bit over the change they saw in him but all seemed happy and quickly accepted Jaskier into their small family.  
  
A few years after destiny saw fit to provide Geralt and Jaskier with a child surprise, their family grew as the young princess began spending winters with the wolf witchers and their bard. It grew again after destiny brought them to Yennefer, who fell in love with and mentally adopted her young pupil the moment the two of them met.  
  
As the years passed Geralt and Jaskier easily worked around one another’s needs. Geralt slept much more often in inns and beds than he had before as he now followed Jaskier to performances as often as the bard followed him into the wilds on his path. Geralt had found no matter where he went, there were contracts to be had, monsters to be slain. Jaskier’s singing was also much more lucrative than his jobs, though he never let himself grow soft or start refusing contracts for comfort’s sake.  
  
All in all, they were happy. When, eventually, trouble did find them, they faced it as destiny once demanded. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Been loving doing witcher fics as they often get me the kind of feedback that makes me WANT to write. Please take a moment to comment if you enjoyed as I am stress writing to get through a dire time in my life and really need the cheering on atm... oof.


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